


At the End of the Night

by jailikechai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jailikechai/pseuds/jailikechai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Want to hear about my night? See, I was at this bar and this guy bought me a drink. And man, he was so hot. He had gorgeous, messy sex hair, and he looked absolutely amazing dressed in this fancy pants three-piece. And god, those eyes. Bluer than the bluest sky and I swear they could look right through you. I could have stared at those eyes all night.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Andy Grammar's " _Honey I'm Good_ " keeps popping up in my music and every time I hear it I imagine Dean flirting with everyone in the bar, then going home to snuggle his honey.

It’s been a good day, and good days should always be celebrated with good nights, Dean thinks as he winks at the curly-haired girl at the far end of the bar and tips his bottle of beer up, letting the liquid pour down his throat in long chugs. He dips his chin and lowers his bottle, wiping a few excess drops from the corners of his lips and finds the girl is no longer visible. He doesn’t mind though, because his view of her is now blocked by the most gorgeous man he has ever seen.

Even better, the man catches his eye and grins hungrily. Dean can’t help but match his smile. The man - tall, fit, dark hair, blue eyes, rough stubble, sharp suit, _hell yes_ \- taps the bar to get the bartender’s attention, his blue eyes never leaving Dean’s face.

“Excuse me, another round for me and my friend, please,” the man asks politely, and _oh fucking hell yes_ , that deep growl of a voice is straight out of Dean’s fantasies. 

“You got it,” the bartender replies, sliding their beers across the bar. Dean catches his without even looking away from the vision of sex-on-legs smiling at him.

“So, uh, you come here often?” Dean asks lamely, and immediately kicks himself mentally for using the saddest line in the book. Blue-eyes apparently agrees, because he flat out laughs.

“Seriously? That’s the line you’re going with?”

“Hey, I’m under pressure here,” Dean defends with a good-natured scowl. His companion chuckles and shakes his head.

“I don’t exactly do this very often, but even I know that that line is - how would you say it - deplorable.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘deplorable’ in my life,” Dean huffs. The man rolls his eyes and looks down shyly. Dean studies him. “So, don’t do this often, huh? What made you change your mind?”

The man’s eyes snap back to his, electric bright and laser focused. Dean almost wants to take a step back from the intensity of that gaze, but he stands his ground.

“You,” he says simply. “You… intrigue me.” He looks at Dean for another long moment, his head tipping ever so slightly to one side as he runs his eyes over the other man’s face. “Also your eyes are very pretty.”

Dean laughs, his head thrown back, shoulders shaking.

“And you’re giving me crap about bad lines,” Dean teases, clapping his hand on Blue-eyes’ shoulder companionably. The man looks at the hand curiously, then back to Dean. He smiles slyly.

“It’s not a line if it’s true.”

Dean blinks at him, and can’t stop himself from laughing again. The shorter man smiles brightly, his eyes wide and delighted, as if amazed that he could possibly have made Dean laugh. Dean turns away and takes a gulp of his beer.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” Dean says with a wink. 

“Very special, I hope,” the man replies, leaning in just a little closer, smiling hopefully. Dean can feel the heat radiating off his body, can smell the sweet scent of his soap and the sour tang of sweat underneath. Dean takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly.

“Sorry, handsome,” he shakes his head and leans away, just a little. “I’ve got someone I need to go home to tonight.” 

The man recoils as if stung by Dean’s words. He doesn’t look disappointed, he looks  angry , and Dean’s heartbeat speeds up as the intense stare now turns into a furious glare.

“That’s it? You blatantly flirt and then reject me just like that?”

Dean gulps, but shrugs.

“You’re awesome, really, and if I didn’t already have someone I’d be all over you like white on rice, believe me. But, sorry, I really do love my baby back home.”

The man scowls, his shoulders tense, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I hope your ‘baby’ knows what a flirt you are,” the man sneers, and as if Dean didn’t already want to eat him with a spoon the man uses air quotes and officially becomes the most adorable fucker he’s ever seen. Dean has to close his eyes and take another deep breath to restrain himself from jumping the man.

“Oh, he knows,” Dean eventually responds, offering the man a wink, and receiving another dark scowl in return. Dean empties his bottle of beer and pats the man on the shoulder as he slides past him towards the door. “Thanks for the drink man. I’m sure you’ll get lucky later.”

The man glares at his back all the way to the door.

Dean drives the long way home, rolling down the windows of the Impala and letting the night air wash over his face and clear away the guilt of rejecting the man in the bar. Then he thinks about getting home and the love of his life waiting for him there, and he doesn’t feel so guilty anymore.

Dean pulls the Impala into the two-car garage next to the new Honda hatchback that still makes him wince and shudder every time he looks at it. Most of the lights are off inside the house, but a small circle of light from the lamp on the side table highlights the dark head of hair poking over the back of the sofa. Dean smiles at it, then leans over to kiss the top of the head, breathing in a lungful of the sweet scent of soap and the sour tang of sweat.

“Hey, babe,” Dean smiles, rounding the side of the couch to flop down next to his partner. He is confronted by steely, narrowed blue eyes and stiff shoulders, the man they belong to just as irresistible here as he was at the bar. Dean tries to snuggle closer, but Castiel pulls away.

“Dean.”

Dean fingers the lapel of Cas’ suit jacket, still slightly musty from the beer and cigarette smell of the bar, and blinks innocently up at Cas through long lashes.

“Want to hear about my night? See, I was at this bar and this guy bought me a drink.” Castiel snorts, unimpressed. Dean continues, “and man, he was so hot. He had gorgeous, messy sex hair,” Dean runs his fingers through said hair, “and he looked absolutely amazing dressed in this fancy pants three-piece. Is this new, by the way?” Dean tugs on the suit jacket again, but doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before speaking again, “and god, those eyes. Bluer than the bluest sky and I swear they could look right through you. I could have stared at those eyes all night.” Dean cups a hand around Castiel’s cheek and lifts his chin so their eyes meet. As promised, Dean stares into the blue depths in front of him.

“So he was this amazing and hot and you rejected him?” Castiel asks, lifting an accusing eyebrow.

“Well, of course. I didn’t want to pick up some random stranger at a bar.” Dean leans in and presses his lips softly against Cas’. “I knew that I already had everything I ever wanted right here at home,” he mutters against Cas’ mouth. He leans in for another kiss, and Castiel relents, letting Dean lick his lips open and tilt his head to deepen the kiss. 

Dean grins when the break apart, and Cas can’t stop the smile from twitching up the corners of his mouth.

“Where’d you learn to flirt like that, anyway?” Dean asks, curling into Castiel’s side, forcing Cas to wrap an arm around him and hold him closer. “That was seriously hot.”

“Where do you think?” Cas snorts, giving Dean a long-suffering look. Dean looks down sheepishly. Castiel smirks. “Although, I may have to rethink my role model, since apparently your methods result in rejection.”

Dean glares at him.

“Hey, I got you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” Castiel sighs, resting his cheek on Dean’s head. “Now, I believe you mentioned something about me getting lucky later tonight?”

Dean’s grin turns wicked.

 


End file.
